


Shook Me All Night Long

by HeckinaHandbasket



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Anal Sex, Billy Hargrove Being Gross, Billy Hargrove Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Billys leather jacket is its own character really, Feelings Realization, Hop In This Handbasket We’re Going To Heck, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Steve Harrington Deserves Love, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Steve is very bad at one night stands, This is the kindergarten teacher Steve and stripper Billy fic, khakis and pastel polo shirts, so much glitter for varying reasons, the whole shebang basically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:40:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29385705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeckinaHandbasket/pseuds/HeckinaHandbasket
Summary: The lights dimmed as the bright, dancing pop music dropped out, leaving eerie silence behind.When the guy walked out on stage, it was like he stole all the remaining  light in the room, like Steve couldn’t see anything else.He almost looked like he’d wandered onto the stage by accident, if he hadn’t been the most gorgeous man that Steve had ever seen.Long blond curls and a face like an angel. Lucifer, specifically.Holy fuck.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 35
Kudos: 154





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay yes I am posting a new WIP instead of updating my other WIPs. 
> 
> I promise I’m working on them! But this AU is so much fun...

The first guy to come out on stage was all tanned oiled muscles in a bedazzled fireman costume and Nancy and her friends went wild for him while Steve surreptitiously checked his watch and sipped his drink.

The next act, though.

The lights dimmed as the bright, dancing pop music dropped out, leaving eerie silence behind.

When the guy walked out on stage, it was like he stole all the remaininglight in the room, like Steve couldn’t see anything else.

He almost looked like he’d wandered onto the stage by accident, if he hadn’t been the most gorgeous man that Steve had ever seen.

Long blond curls and a face like an angel. Lucifer, specifically.

Holy fuck.

Nothing about his outfit screamed stripper, either. Just skintight jeans with motorcycle boots and a ripped-up tee shirt, topped by an admittedly sexy leather jacket.

It didn’t look like a costume, not like the sequined firefighter jacket that had come before him at all.

He was holding a cold bottle of beer loosely in one hand, amber liquid sloshing around as he stood in the center of the stage and pulled out a cigarette, tucking it neatly between his lips.

He flicked open a skull-emblazoned lighter, igniting the flame just as the music kicked back on, heavy metal screaming through the speakers and blowing Steve away.

The guy barely moved, sucking on his cigarette as he scanned the room, tucking his lighter in a jacket pocket.

His eyes traced over Steve before snapping back to fixate on his face for a long, heart-stopping moment.

Oh, god.

Steve could feel himself going bright red all over, unable to look away.

The guy started to move to the music, just a little. Mostly walking belligerently but rhythmically around the stage, sneering and snarling at the cheering crowd.

He stopped at the front of the stage, just left of center.

Directly in front of Steve.

Or, more likely, directly in front of Nancy, who was whooping and hollering in her seat next to him, toasting with her much depleted glass of wine.

But, his eyes went to Steve.

Pretty blue eyes ringed with long, dark lashes that burned brighter than his cigarette as he stared him down, setting his beer on the edge of the stage before he ran his hands slowly down his body, hips gyrating to the beat.

Steve was hard in his khakis and sweating under the collar, choking on his drink as the song screamed about ‘American thighs’ and the guy tore open his belt buckle with rough fingers, yanking the length of black leather out of his jeans with a loud crack against the stage floor.

He kicked it to the side with his dirty boot, hips still working in ways that were mystifying to Steve as his hands went to his jacket, exhaling smoke through his nostrils before shrugging it off slowly, letting the heavy leather slide down to his wrists.

He turned like that, displaying the way the drape of his jacket perfectly framed the most magnificent ass that Steve had ever seen.

It was a gift to the denim gods.

He looked back over his shoulder, right at Steve, and pulled one arm free until the jacket dangled from the other hand.

Then he walked to the edge of the stage, brought the jacket in front of his crotch, and proceeded to stroke the extended sleeve in time to the music in a filthy, smirking pantomime that went straight to Steve’s dick.

He lifted his chin, half-lidded eyes burning through Steve as he hauled back and tossed the jacket directly into Steve’s chest, knocking the air out of him with an undignified sound.

It was heavy, slapping his skin and sliding down to his lap as he gathered it up with hesitant fingers.

This was not a prop.

This was the dancer’s real jacket, clearly well used, leather warm and butter-soft.

The jacket smelled like male sweat and dark cologne, like beer and cigarettes and aftershave and Steve could have driven a nail through the wall with his dick.

The guy did a turn of the stage, pausing here and there to thrust out his hips and accept cash stuffed into his waistband before returning to his preferred spot, tossing down the cigarette and crushing it in time to the music.

His tongue slipped out without the cigarette to occupy his mouth, pink and wet and sin incarnate, wagging in Steve’s direction beneath sparkling eyes.

Steve clutched the jacket in his lap, trying not to show how affected he was by the act and clearly failing miserably judging by the way the guy’s face lit up.

He started up a slow bump and grind, hands sliding up his torso to the neck of his shirt.

Then he tore it open down to the waist, growling low under the thumping music. Steve had to check to make sure that he wasn’t drooling over the sight of those improbable abs, dabbing at his chin discreetly.

The dancer threw the shirt off to the side, ignoring the excited screech of the woman who caught it.

Walking to the edge of the stage with his harsh, rhythmic stride, he picked up the beer bottle again, opened the cap with his teeth and spat it out onto the stage with a snarl that made Steve press his thighs together.

He wanted to know what else those teeth could do.

The dancer threw back his head and drank half the bottle, letting his free hand rub over his exposed torso down to cup the bulge in his jeans.

Christ.

Steve wondered how he would feel about replacing that hand with Steve’s tongue.

The music built to a frenzy and he lowered the bottle, turned his head to the ceiling, and spat a fountain of beer straight up, letting it run down his chin and neck all the way to his torso, golden droplets tracing the hills and valleys of his abdomen.

It was completely disgusting.

Steve could watch that shit all day.

The guy finished his beer, letting the empty bottle clank to the stage floor and roll away as he flicked open the top button of his jeans, to the cheers of the crowd.

He did another turn of the stage, collecting more tips before returning once again to his spot in front of Steve.

This time he looked him dead in the eye as he placed both hands inside his waistband and yanked sharply, tearing his jeans clean off in a shower of dollar bills.

The crowd went wild, Nancy knocking over her wineglass as she tried to wolf-whistle.

Steve couldn’t look away from the bulge in his black g-string, obviously half hard and already impressive.

The dancer slid his hands down his stomach to frame his bulge in the diamond space between each thumb, fingertips digging into the meat of his thighs.

Steve only realized that he was on the edge of his seat when he nearly fell off of it, scrambling back before he hit the sticky floor, still clutching the jacket like a lifeline.

The guy spun around to walk across the stage, grinding the air in front of the crowd as people screamed and shoved money in the tiny strings across his hips. His ass was—

It was—Steve had never—it was perfect, okay? Ridiculous, even.

Then he returned to center stage to drop to his knees with a thud that made Steve wince. He arched his back at a ridiculous angle and thrust up into the air before raising up to stare Steve down as he slipped the very tips of his fingers beneath the fabric of his g-string. He blew a filthy kiss right at Steve that was somehow even hotter than the acres of exposed skin.

He clasped his hands above his head, every muscle flexed on display as he thrust into the air in time to the music until it ended with a crash of drums and warbling guitar.

Then he got to his feet in the echoing silence before the next song, gave Steve a long, hard look, and just turned away to disappear backstage.

Steve sucked in a harsh burst of air as he realized that he had been frozen, entranced, holding his breath.

A scantily clad guy built like Steve ran out to clean up the tips and bits of costuming strewn across the stage, but when Steve held out the jacket to him, he just shook his head with wide eyes and scurried away.

Great.

Now Steve had to figure out what to do with this stripper jacket.

He could just leave it, he guessed, but that wasn’t his style. Steve was the kind of guy who cleaned up after himself in a movie theater, who always returned his shopping cart to the proper place.

He was going to have to get this jacket back to the dancer somehow. It was very good quality and obviously well-loved. It had clearly been an accident to leave it with Steve.

Steve tugged on Nancy’s sleeve as she whistled at the next dancer, a brunette in a sailor suit that did absolutely nothing for Steve. “Hey, listen, I’m gonna head out, okay. Have a great night and don’t stay out too late.”

Nancy nodded distractedly, pressing a haphazard kiss to Steve’s cheek as he pulled away, her eyes glued to the stage.

“And drink water!”

She waved him off as he started walking away. He made his way to the bar to approach another dancer. This one was cute in that high-school jock kinda way, covered in freckles with a cocky grin on his face. He wore a very abbreviated football uniform and more than a handful of glitter.

Steve had to lean in to talk, flushing beneath the guy’s raised eyebrows.

“Hey, uh, “ he checked the name printed across the severely cropped football jersey, “Tommy? I think your coworker left this behind. Do you know where I should leave it?”

Tommy looked him up and down, a tiny frown on his freckled face. “Damn. Why does that asshole always get the good ones?”

Steve shook his head, barely able to hear over the pounding music from the stage. “I’m sorry?”

Tommy sighed and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “He’s waiting for you in the dressing room. Door to the left of the stage. Listen, if you change your mind about him I’ll be right out here. I get off in a couple hours.”

Wow, that was. Flattering.

Steve did alright for himself but he knew he wasn’t exactly the type of guy to appeal to somebody like Tommy, with his perfect body and wolffish grin.

Steve was just a kindergarten teacher. He spent half his time covered in glitter for very different reasons than Tommy did. If the lighting was better in here, Tommy wouldn’t have looked at him twice.

Steve rubbed the back of his neck with a laugh and lifted the jacket slightly. “Oh, thanks. I’m really just going to go return his jacket, though.”

Tommy rolled his eyes and slumped back against the bar, petulant lower lip sticking out just a little. “Yeah, okay. Keep telling yourself that. Better hurry or he’ll change his mind, penny loafers.”

Steve glanced down at his shiny brown penny loafers, flushing even harder. He really stuck out like a sore thumb.

He made his way to the door Tommy had indicated and took a deep breath before knocking twice.

“What?”

The voice that growled through the door was anything but encouraging and Steve nearly dropped the jacket and left.

But, he knew the right thing to do was to deliver it into the right hands.

Steve always believed in doing the right thing.

So, he knocked again, harder this time.

“Tommy, I swear to god, if you—”

The door ripped open to reveal the blond dancer in nothing but a damp towel, curls tight and dripping wet across his shoulders. Steve tracked a fat drop of water all the way over the hill of his collarbone and down his chest, holding his breath as it trembled on the peak of one tight pink nipple before falling to the ground.

“Can I help you?”

Steve jerked his head up guiltily and held the jacket out like a shield. His face burned all the way to his scalp and he knew he was a bright, furious red under the perfect blue gaze of this Adonis.

“Hey, sorry, I wanted to make sure this got back to you. I think you accidentally left it behind?”

The dancer made no move to take it, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe as he let his eyes roam over Steve from top to toe, tongue flashing out between his teeth. “No accident, country club.”

And, in retrospect, perhaps a baby blue striped polo shirt and khaki pants were not the most appropriate choice for a strip club.

But Nancy had said party casual, and this was what Steve wore.

He didn’t own things like a motorhead crop top and painted on jeans. Things this stripper—

Dancer, he mentally corrected himself.

Things this dancer probably wore like he was meant for them.

Steve could never.

He drew breath to say something, anything to cut the tense silence as the dancer stared him down but all that came out was a squeak as strong hands reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt, hauling him into the dressing room before the door slammed shut behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Billy.”
> 
> Steve flattened himself against the door, still holding the jacket up to his chin like a scared kid with a blanket. The dancer leaned on one flat hand just over Steve’s shoulder, pinning him to the door with his eyes.
> 
> “Name’s Billy. Thought I’d go ahead and say it since you didn’t ask. I bet your mother taught you better manners than that.”
> 
> Steve sputtered out an apology and Billy’s eyes lit up like a candle catching fire. “I think the polite thing to do here is to tell me your name, now, pretty boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just got another hard deadline. Updating while I can!

“Billy.”

Steve flattened himself against the door, still holding the jacket up to his chin like a scared kid with a blanket. The dancer leaned on one flat hand just over Steve’s shoulder, pinning him to the door with his eyes.

“Name’s Billy. Thought I’d go ahead and say it since you didn’t ask. I bet your mother taught you better manners than that.”

Steve sputtered out an apology and Billy’s eyes lit up like a candle catching fire. “I think the polite thing to do here is to tell me your name, now, pretty boy.”

He was so close Steve could barely breathe. He smelled like shampoo and cologne with just a hint of cigarettes and Steve was harder than ever. He lowered the jacket discreetly to cover the front of his pants.

Flat front khakis were not constructed to conceal what Steve was packing.

“Oh, uh. Steve. Steve Harrington.”

Billy turned his head with a little laugh that puffed warm air over Steve’s neck and Steve had to bite back a truly pathetic sound. “Well, Steve Harrington. Aren’t you a good boy to bring me my jacket? I bet you were a Boy Scout, weren’t you, Steve Harrington?”

And, yes.

He was.

Eagle Scout, actually.

But Billy didn’t seem like he would be very impressed by that, so Steve kept it to himself. “Just Steve, actually.”

This time he couldn’t bite back the sound he made when Billy brushed his knuckles across Steve’s jaw with the barest pressure, still watching him like there was nothing else in the room. “Alright, Just Steve. Your place or mine?”

Steve nearly dropped the jacket, fumbling for it as it slipped from shocked fingers. “I—what?”

Billy pushed off the door and took a step back. He shook his head as he rubbed a thumb over his bottom lip thoughtfully. “I’m not fucking you here. You’re not the type.”

Steve followed mindlessly as Billy walked across the room and yanked a pair of jeans out of a battered duffel bag. Steve swiftly looked up at the ceiling as Billy unceremoniously dropped the towel to hop into his jeans. Oh, god, he wasn’t wearing any underwear. Steve’s own plain white briefs nearly shuddered with the effort to contain his reaction to that knowledge. He tried to act casual, clearing his throat and blinking up at the water-stained ceiling. “What is the type?”

He could hear Billy shuffling around, hopefully putting on more clothes. “Not you. You’re too...sweet.”

His heart dropped into his stomach. Sweet was how Steve would describe someone’s grandmother. Steve wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear forever. He clutched Billy’s leather jacket more tightly against him to cover some of his boring pastel self. “Oh, sorry.”

He inhaled sharply as Billy touched him again, gripping his chin to bring Steve’s eyes down to his face. Billy’s eyes were beautiful, yes, but they were also—kind? “Don’t be. I like sweet.”

Billy’s hand shifted on Steve’s face to trace so lightly across his lower lip that Steve nearly turned his head to chase it as Billy brought that finger to his own mouth to suck it slowly inside with a low hum. He popped it out of his mouth to flash white teeth in a wide grin. “And, baby, you’re sugar candy.”

Steve’s dick was staging a full on revolt in his pants. It was going to break free any minute and run rampant through the room. He wrinkled up his nose in confusion as Billy returned to his duffle bag to zip it shut. “Are you serious? You want...? Me? Really?”

It felt like a joke. Like an error.

Like Billy was going to start laughing any second at Steve’s ridiculous presumption.

He didn’t laugh, he just slung his bag over his shoulder. The strap pulled his shirt even further open and Steve couldn’t help looking. He was wearing a short sleeved snap-front shirt with only two snaps done up at the bottom, framing his perfect torso.

It was nearly as distracting as the g-string had been.

Billy gestured at Steve’s whole body with a raised brow. “Don’t sell yourself short, baby. Throw a little costume on your squeaky clean ass and they’d be trampling the stage for you.”

That seemed, just, very unlikely.

Steve usually attracted particularly clueless moms and, like, accountants with a sensible life plan.

Not, um, Billys.

God, Steve had never even had a one night stand. He didn’t know the protocol. Shit, his palms were sweating all over Billy’s jacket. “So, you just, like. You want to go home with me? Now?”

Billy gave Steve a skeptical look, gaze dropping pointedly to the tent in Steve’s pants as he shook a hand through his drying curls. “What, you don’t want a piece of me?”

Steve may have never heard a less true statement in his life. He rushed to correct it, gesturing awkwardly with the jacket. “Oh, I do. You’re very... Um, wow. But, like, I don’t usually...Do this kind of thing.”

Billy was smiling so hard his eyes creased beautifully at the corners, twinkling up at Steve from beneath thick lashes like captured stars. “You don’t say?”

His good humor startled a laugh out of Steve, some of the tension leaving his spine as he shoved some hair off his face sheepishly. “Gosh. I guess that’s pretty obvious, huh? Sorry.”

Billy advanced on him so quickly that Steve froze in place, watching him round-eyed as Billy gave him a fierce expression, brows dropped low. “Never apologize for who you are, Steve. The world needs a little more sweetness, if you ask me.”

It shouldn’t make butterflies take flight in Steve’s stomach, embarking on a one night stand with an exotic dancer, but.

It did. An entire flock.

He swallowed back another apology and held out the jacket once more. “I wanted to make sure this got back to you. It’s a really nice jacket.”

Billy didn’t even glance at the jacket Steve held pressed to his thick, warm chest. Instead, he took it from Steve’s fingers without breaking eye contact and carefully arranged it over Steve’s shoulders. “Why don’t you hold onto that for me a little longer, princess? It’s cold out.”

It was.

Steve’s windshield had frosted over by the time they made it out to his car. He stood blushing in Billy’s jacket while he fumbled his keys, dropping them to the ground. “Oh, sugar!”

Billy busted out laughing so hard that he dropped his duffle bag, hand pressed to his stomach through the open front of his shirt. He had to be freezing with that much exposed skin. “Oh, sugar? Holy hell, that’s cute. You don’t like to swear, Steve Harrington? Too naughty for you?”

Well, that was embarrassing. Steve had gotten into the habit of censoring himself when he was frustrated. It was better for his kids.

And Steve would do anything for his kids.

But it didn’t exactly give a suave, sexy impression with his...

Date?

Luckily, he finally got the door open and slid into his car before he did something else humiliating.

Unluckily, the passenger seat Billy tried to slide into was covered in a mess of glitter and paper, little bits of construction paper fluttering to the floorboards as he scooped it up with a quizzical eyebrow.

Steve hurried to gather it from him, careful with the delicate pages as he shuffled it to the backseat. “Sorry, it’s just stuff for my kids. I’ll move it.”

Billy stiffened in the seat beside him, muscles going taut in the arm that held onto the handle above his head. “You got kids?”

Shit.

Okay, that definitely wasn’t the impression that Steve was trying to give. He was just so used to referring to his class as his kids that he forgot people might misunderstand. He tried to wipe glitter off on his khakis, frowning when it stuck to his palm like it had fused to his skin. “Oh, no. No, I’m just a kindergarten teacher.”

Billy let go of the handle to turn completely around in his seat, one leg hooked over Steve’s gear shift as he leaned in, eyes glittering like a bear in a cave. “No way.”

The window was cold even through the jacket as Steve leaned back, both hands already at ten and two on the steering wheel. “Yes, way? I know it’s not, like, the manliest profession, but I’m really passionate about it. I love what I do, and I do it well.”

He got tired of defending his career to people.

Like his dad.

Billy reached out and traced over the tense line of Steve’s knuckles on the steering wheel, his mouth going soft around the edges. “Hey, Steve? You don’t have to defend your job to me. I’m a fucking stripper.”

Something about the self-derogatory way he said that grated on Steve, and he furrowed his brow as he met Billy’s eye. “You’re a very talented dancer and entertainer. Every eye in that room was on you, and I couldn’t say the same about your coworkers. You have a gift.”

Surprise flitted across Billy’s face before he covered it up with a filthy smirk mirroring the one he wore onstage. “Couldn’t take your eyes off me, huh, baby? Bet you can’t wait to get me back to your place and see what I can do in private.”

Which was true, but Steve wasn’t a guy who liked to pressure his dates, ever. “Billy, we don’t—I mean, I only want to do things you want to do. I could just put the kettle on and we could get to know each other, if you wanted. I’m not, like, expecting anything from you just because you’re a dancer.”

Billy pulled out a pack of cigarettes, eyeing Steve as he packed them down. “You for real?”

Steve nodded and reached across to roll Billy’s window down for him while he lit up. “Yes, Billy. I’m very real.”

Real. Boring. Mundane. All of those things.

Steve threw the car into reverse before hesitating, foot on the brake. “Could you please wear your seatbelt? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Billy clamped his cigarette between his teeth as he buckled up. “Safety first, right, teach?”

Steve didn’t have an answer to that which wouldn’t embarrass him further so he just concentrated on driving home, frantically trying to remember the state of his house and whether he would need to tidy up when they got there.

Billy just smoked in silence until they pulled up to Steve’s house and he killed the lights, still holding on to the steering wheel as nerves twisted his stomach.

Ashing out the window, Billy gave Steve a long, considering look in the low light of his front porch that filtered through the windshield. “Do you bottom? I’m fine either way, but, I’ll be honest, I’m kinda hoping you do.”

Steve shook his head to try to clear it, trying to make sense of Billy’s words. “What?”

Billy tossed his cigarette butt out onto Steve’s lawn and rolled up his window, muscles cording in his arm at the motion. Not that Steve noticed, or anything. “Do you take it up the ass, sweetheart? It’s not a complicated question.”

Oh, god.

Steve felt like an idiot, going hot across the back of his neck as he scrambled to save face and at least seem like he knew what he was doing, here. “Oh. I, um. Yes, in. In theory. I haven’t actually tried, yet. But I want to!”

He added the last bit on hastily as Billy’s eyebrows climbed up into his hairline like they were trying to escape.

“Wait, so,” he gestured at Steve as a whole, “all of this. And you’re a fucking virgin, too?”

Steve finally let go of the steering wheel to hold his hands out like it was proof of his prowess in bed. He had slept with three people, already, so. It’s not like he didn’t have experience. Just not—

“No. No, not a virgin. Just haven’t gone all the way with a guy. Yet. But, like I said, I totally want to. So.”

Billy bit his lip as he gripped one hand around the rigid length of his cock clearly outlined by his painted-on jeans. He squeezed and Steve was salivating as Billy searched Steve’s face with wide blue eyes. “Gone all the way? Holy shit. I’m going to hell. Better get that front door open before I start the journey right here in your little teacher car, Steve Harrington.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Billy’s sweetness kink in this so much. I’m gonna go wild with it.
> 
> Follow me for more fics, fanart, and info on my original gay romance novels:
> 
> https://twitter.com/HeckinaH
> 
> http://heck-in-a-handbasket.tumblr.com/
> 
> https://instagram.com/heck_in_a_handbasket

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me for more fics, fanart, info on my original gay romance novels, and whatever else I throw out into the world:
> 
> https://twitter.com/HeckinaH
> 
> http://heck-in-a-handbasket.tumblr.com/
> 
> https://instagram.com/heck_in_a_handbasket


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